Page 115 of Bratva Bidder

I nod once. That’s enough for now.

She rests her head against me again, cheek to my chest, listening to the way my heart refuses to settle.

“Did you sleep at all?” she asks after a long beat of quiet.

“No,” I admit.

“Why?”

“Can’t sleep.”

She doesn’t respond.

She just holds me tighter.

And that, somehow, makes it worse.

We lie there for a long time. She’s curled against my side, her thigh warm over mine, breath slowing, body finally softening after hours of need and fire. But I’m still awake. Still thinking.

Always thinking.

My mind doesn’t shut off. Hasn’t in years. Not since I first understood what silence can cost a man in this world.

She shifts beside me, her fingers lightly trailing across my chest, slow and rhythmic, like she’s feeling the shape of something she’s not sure is real.

“What’s wrong?” she murmurs.

I nearly lie.

I nearly say nothing’s wrong, just tired, just thinking.

But she’s here. Still here. Stillminein ways I don’t know how to explain. And for some reason, that soft question cracks something open in me I’ve kept shut for too long.

I’ve lived a lifetime burying things I couldn’t afford to speak. Weakness, vulnerability, doubt—they don’t survive long in my world.

But this isn’t a soldier beside me.

It’s Nadya.

And for some reason I can’t name, that matters more than I expected it to.

I exhale, long and slow, letting the quiet stretch.

“There was a hit,” I say quietly. “On one of our deals. Staten Island.”

I feel her body still slightly, but she doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t push.

“Two men are dead. One barely made it out.”

The warehouse flashes in my mind—blood on concrete, crates ripped open like afterthoughts. Sergei’s name burning behind my ribs.

“It wasn’t random,” I go on, the words heavier now. “Someone gave them intel. There was a mole amongst my men, but that’s not the worst part. The hit was by my half brother Roman.”

Nadya hisses.

“I mean, I’m not surprised,” I say. “My father has been trying to remove me for a long time. He’s now using his heir to do the dirty job.”

The rational part of my mind is still screaming. Telling me,Don’t say this, don’t drag her into this.